S p a c e

S p a c e

8 / 4 > 30 / 4

Welcome to the first of our online exhibitions, 'Space'. We asked creatives to respond to the concept of space - we are all reflecting on space at the moment, be it increased awareness of our physical boundaries via social distancing measures, the emotional boundaries we are also aware of within our 'stay at home' families, or our own mental health coping mechanisms, needing space on our own.

The artists have responded in such interesting ways, some reflecting on a craving or appreciation of outside, some more honed on the current covid-19 crisis and its implications for how we are living and how our normal practice and habits have altered.

The current exhibition continues until 30 April and we will be hosting our next online exhibition during May.

To seek further Space online content, search for the hashtag #virtuallyflowerfield

Open Space Illusion Gaelle Berthelot Acrylic 45X60Cm
The Void Between Us Rosella Watton Austin Mixed Media With Gold Leaf 21 X 15 Cm
Space And Time Katy English Pen On Paper 40 X 60 Cm
Downhill Beach Ashley Coulter Watercolour
Fragile Melanie Ward
Fragile 2 Melanie Ward
Elbow Room Kevin Mc Clelland Pencil On Paper 35X25Cm
View From Our Window Simon Harrison Pencil On Paper
Small World Josephine Kelly Oil On Canvas 10 X 14 Inches £400
At Least 2 Metres Please Harry Mc Mahon Oil On Canvas 20X50Cm
Murvagh Donegal Sally Patton Acrylic 90X90 Cm
From Series Litmustone In Vitr0 Gail Mahon Giclee Print On Bamboo Paper 30 X 40 Cm
Into The Woods Gillian Hassan Hallam Mixed Media
Portstewart Strand Davy Thompson
Gold Resin Waves With Pebbles And Shells Louise Concannon Rersin Paint Moexed Media 15X15X1 5 Inches
Handembroidered Coat Ruth Holloway
A Quiet Space In A Tuscan Garden Ken Ward

Extract from ‘Small Steps’ by Bernie McGill

Our dog, Shortlegs, has a coat the colour of ploughed soil and a white bib and white socks and a white tip to her tail. Her body’s too long for the length of her legs. She looks like a big dog that’s been cut off at the knees. We got her from our neighbour, Dan, when his dog, Spritzer, had a litter and you can tell that she’s part Springer when she bounds through the long meadow between our house and the sea, so that only her head bobs up above the grass. The rest of her, Dan says, is a mystery. His neighbour to the lower end has a boy beagle and up the road there’s a Jack Russell and a dachshund. Dan used to watch Shortlegs for traits of those other dogs but he says it could have been any one of them that did the business with Spritzer.

Shortlegs has some of what Mumma calls ‘strange behaviours’. She won’t eat her food unless you stand over her while she’s eating, and she barks at aeroplane contrails, and at the wind. She’s quieter now that there aren’t so many flights. I texted Dan to tell him that she was howling at the North Star and he said, was I sure that that’s what it was? He said to keep an eye on it: if it was bright when there were no other stars around, and if it moved position across the sky, then it could be the space station, and I checked and it was, and it did. Dan said he wouldn’t blame Shortlegs for barking. He said, ‘Who knows what she can sense out there that we can’t?’

I watched a programme on TV about Mars, about the polar ice caps where it snows carbon dioxide and about the ancient salt deposits and the places where they believe water used to flow. So far, NASA has only managed to land a rover there, but the programme narrator said that the person could be alive today who would walk on the surface of the red planet. It would take seven earth months to get there, but you could set up home in a lava tube in a volcano, not that different from the green cave where I take Shortlegs, and sit out the dust storms under a natural skylight, and watch a Martian sunset. I told Mumma that that person could be me and she said, ‘Why not? For you, Cassie, not even the sky is the limit.’

The green cave is in the riverbank in the glen behind the house where a spruce tree fell backwards into the forest, and pulled up the soft ground at its base. It must have happened years ago, because the roots are all overgrown with moss and red lichen, and underneath, where the tree pulled away, it’s formed a perfect cave. It sort of looks like the earth yawned and then froze in that position, like Mumma used to say my mouth would when I used to make a face. Sometimes when I’m in there, I imagine I can hear the earth breathing, and that the mouth is going to close again and shut me and Shortlegs inside. That’s where I go to practice stillness and confinement, in preparation for the space programme. I’m getting really good at it.

Mars has two small potato-shaped moons. Some scientists think it may once have had a third moon, the orbit of which finally eroded. They think that when the lost moon collided with Mars, the impact may have formed the Orcus Patera crater. I measured my orbit and I measured Mumma’s and I measured Shortlegs’ and Granda’s too. If you include Glasgow, and France that time we went on holiday, then my orbit, before Lockdown, was nine hundred and ten miles and I reckon Mumma’s was about the same. Now me and Mumma have the same orbit as Shortlegs, which is about two miles and takes in the Spar and the green cave and the sea, though Shortlegs covers at least four times that distance every time we go out, because she can’t go in a straight line and boomerangs backwards and forwards to me. Granda can only go from his armchair to the kitchen table, or to the bathroom, or to his bed. If you take the TV as the central point, I reckon his orbit is about twenty steps. That’s not much, and Mumma says it’s shrinking. Granda’s speed is very low but all the same, I watch him for signs of collision, in case his orbit erodes further, in case the same thing happens to him that happened to the missing Martian moon.

*A separate extract from this story was published in Reading the Future: New Writing from Ireland (Arlen House, Galway, 2018).

*Image: Embroidery courtesy of Mary McClelland

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